


My World Fell From Your Trembling Hands

by destimushi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Lightning Sex, M/M, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Past Loki/Thor (Marvel), Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Thundershield - Freeform, canon character deathes, canon typical angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 08:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15481692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destimushi/pseuds/destimushi
Summary: Steve should care, but he’s so tired. So utterly exhausted. He has no answers, and even if he did, he doesn’t want to speak to anyone right now. Nat came and left, her silent companionship pregnant with unvoiced concerns, but she knows better than to ask. Knows better than anyone the value of silence in the face of true despair.He held back the anguish for a while. Locked it in the vault with his memories of Bucky and tried to make sense of the chaos left behind by Thanos’ misguided mercy. Half the world crumbled to dust, but the other half—the half left bleeding—limps on.





	My World Fell From Your Trembling Hands

**Author's Note:**

> As a super multishipper, after watching IW, I imagined this is how the aftermath played out. The idea wouldn't leave me alone, and even after it was done, it still plagued me. I hope this brings a little comfort to those as devastated as I was after the movie as we all wait with guarded excitement for next year! 
> 
> Beta'd by my wonderful friend [JhanaMay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JhanaMay/pseuds/JhanaMay). All other mistakes are my own!

The door opens on silent hinges.

Steve should care, but he’s so tired. So utterly exhausted. He has no answers, and even if he did, he doesn’t want to speak to anyone right now. Nat came and left, her silent companionship pregnant with unvoiced concerns, but she knows better than to ask. Knows better than anyone the value of silence in the face of true despair.

He held back the anguish for a while. Locked it in the vault with his memories of Bucky and tried to make sense of the chaos left behind by Thanos’ misguided mercy. Half the world crumbled to dust, but the other half—the half left bleeding—limps on.

When Tony stumbled back to Earth, an icy void replaced the worried-sick weight in his chest and despair crept through the keyhole to haunt him. It started small. A dream not quite right. A piece out of place. Then it spread until Steve woke up shaking and screaming as Bucky’s final word mocked him.

The bed dips beside him. The air charges with muted power, and the hairs on Steve’s forearms shoot upright. He shifts, just barely, and his chest aches with a fresh wave of sorrow. Not for him, but for the man seated next to him.

“Thor.”

“Captain.”

Steve chuckles, the sound humourless even to his own ears. “I’m just Steve Rogers now. Not a hero anymore.”

“You will always be a hero,” Thor says, and Steve detects a trace of sadness there. Being a hero isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. “It is your blessing and your curse.”

“And what’s your curse?” Steve looks up and meets Thor’s piercing eyes—one electric blue, the other a tawny, synthetic gold—with raised eyebrows.

“My curse is that I am, now, truly alone.”

Steve’s breath sticks in his throat, and he wants to punch himself in the teeth for his callousness. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too.”

Silence descends upon them like a thick fog, damp and suffocating. Steve wants to fill that silence with something, anything, but he doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to console when he feels so dead inside.

The team, or what’s left, is waiting on his orders, but Steve can’t even muster enough energy to offer comfort to a friend. The same friend who cradled Steve in his arms when the weight of everything became too much. Thor was his pillar, his safe place to hide when the world wanted him to be strong. Thor, who is still trying to be the rock Steve can lean on even though he’s cracking from the inside out.

Steve leans his head against Thor’s shoulder and lays a hand on his knee. The air shifts around them, enveloping them in a thick cocoon of security, and Thor sighs. It’s a soft huff of breath, but the tension carried by it is immense.

“I thought him dead more than once,” Thor says, his voice so soft Steve wonders if he would have heard it without his enhanced hearing. “I have already mourned him so many times. It should not be this difficult.”

Steve slips his arm around Thor’s waist and hangs on for them both. “Some things don’t get easier with practice. And they shouldn’t.”

Thor stiffens, then relaxes into Steve's embrace. “Perhaps,” he says with a quiet sigh. “I am sorry about your friend.”

Something seizes in Steve’s chest, twists and squeezes until his heart threatens to explode. Pain lances through him, a savagery he never expected to experience again since the serum invaded his body a century ago. He hasn’t allowed himself to say it out loud, and no one around him did either. Not talking about it makes it seem like a nightmare he can wake up from if he tries hard enough. If he believes hard enough.

He blinks, tries to chase away the sour sting behind his eyes, and Thor’s face blurs into a watery mosaic. He wants to lash out. To kick and bite and scream until there’s nothing left in him to feel. But he can’t. He’s Steve Rogers. He’s the man with a plan. The one with the conviction to do right by the world. He can’t crumple because that would mean they have truly lost.

“You don’t have to bear the weight of the world on your shoulders alone.” Thor grips Steve's chin with two fingers and tips his head back. He brushes soft lips against the corner of Steve’s mouth, and the world comes tumbling down.

How many times has loneliness driven him into Thor’s arms? How many nights has he cried out Thor’s name as he lost himself in Thor’s crushing embrace? Bucky was his heart, and when Steve believed Bucky dead, Thor filled the void where his heart used to be.

Theirs is a relationship born out of the need for companionship, for solidarity in their loss. Steve knows Thor’s relationship with Loki, knows he will never be what Loki is to Thor just as Thor will never replace Bucky, but they’ve learned to love one another just the same. Learned to find in each other the comfort and understanding no one else can give them. Their physical relationship stopped after Bucky crashed back into Steve’s life, but the emotional support never ended.

Thor will always be there to hold Steve up, and in return, Steve will always be a place for Thor to rest his head for a while.

Steve pulls back and turns to look at Thor, his hands cupping Thor’s jaw, and he studies the tired face trapped there. There are more lines in Thor’s face than Steve remembers, and bone-crushing sadness is etched in every crease. Thor’s hurting just as much as Steve, and hopelessness seeps through the cracks in Thor’s mask as he tries to swallow his pain.

Steve presses his mouth to Thor’s and the world fades away. Thor hesitates, his lips frozen for a split second, then he’s kissing Steve back. The kiss is ferocious in its desperation, and Steve tastes electricity on the tip of his tongue when Thor parts his lips. Large fingers tangle in Steve’s hair, pull on the strands until his scalp sings with cleansing pain, and Steve moans and allows himself to _feel_ for the first time since the day he failed the world.

They haven’t done this in some time, but Steve’s body remembers the stroke of Thor’s hands and the press of Thor’s tongue. Remembers what it feels like to be plucked by those calloused fingers until his mind is wiped clean. He needs that emptiness now, needs it to replace the roiling guilt and uncertainty and fear. Somehow, Steve knows Thor needs that same release, needs Steve to scoop him out until there’s nothing left in him to hurt.

Salty bitterness stains the tip of Steve’s tongue. It’s a taste of reality, a reminder that this isn’t over. That Thanos is still out there. Steve pulls back, but a giant hand fists the front of his shirt, and Thor yanks him back with a growl. Reality takes a backseat as Thor attacks Steve’s mouth like the conqueror he could have been, tongue plunging and sweeping until Steve forgets how to breathe.

Fingers roam down Steve’s sides, curl around his hips, and pull him into Thor’s lap as if he weighs as much as his pre-serum self. Steve groans, and his fingers find the short threads of Thor’s hair with renewed desperation. He would never admit it, but sometimes he misses being small. Misses the strength of Bucky’s arms around him as they fooled around in their rickety bed. Misses the security of Bucky’s body curled around him as they slept their worries away in their tiny apartment.

It’s nice to feel small again. To be tucked against Thor’s large frame and pretend the world hasn’t gone to shit despite his best efforts.

Steve rolls his hips, and he’s met with a hiss when his trapped cock rubs against Thor’s straining erection. Layers of fabric separate them, but the heat of Thor’s arousal is as evident as the warmth of the blazing sun on a midsummer day. Thor nips Steve’s bottom lip, teeth worrying and pulling until Steve’s delirious with need. It’s just this side of too much; it’s exactly what Steve needs for the next few precious moments.

They don’t usually talk. Have never said much when their bodies come together to seek solace, but Steve’s been soaked in silence for too long and words tumble from his lips before he can make sense of them. “Please, Thor, I need—make me forget—just for a second—just—”    

“Shh.” Thor cups Steve’s ass and pulls him closer, his thumbs slipping beneath the edge of Steve’s t-shirt to stroke gentle circles onto Steve’s skin. “I will be the reprieve you desire tonight, and you shall be mine. Let us dream a little.” Thor’s voice cracks on the last word, but he doesn’t look away. There is no shame between them. Not tonight, not ever.  

Steve nods, then presses his lips back against Thor’s jaw and works his way down the corded muscle of Thor’s neck. Steve is not as smooth and confident as Bucky, and he’s not as versed in hedonistic pleasures as Tony, but he is no shy virgin rediscovering Thor’s body. He slips off Thor’s lap, each movement purposeful as his lips pepper feather soft kisses along Thor’s neck, teeth nipping along the quivering pulse.

Thor shivers beneath his fingertips, skin vibrating with a low hum that sets Steve’s heart racing. The air charges with something thick and promising, and Steve is only too aware of the blue arc of lightning on Thor’s fingertips when he kneels between Thor’s spread knees.

He reaches for the leather tie of Thor’s pants, brushing the tent between Thor’s thighs as he works the knot loose, then leans in and nuzzles the soft, golden curls peeking out of the waist band. Thor hisses and tilts his hips forward as Steve pulls his pants down his thighs. Steve’s mouth waters at the sight of Thor’s cock—already hard and throbbing and leaking at the tip—and he’s eager to slip into the empty state of mind he experiences whenever he has Thor’s cock in his mouth.

To say Thor is well endowed is an understatement. The taste is familiar. An intoxicating blend of things Steve loves but cannot identify. He wastes no time with teasing because he needs the fullness as much as Thor needs the heat of his throat. He needs to forget, and in doing so, he’ll make Thor forget, too.

Gentle fingers card through Steve’s hair. It’s longer than it’s ever been, but for once, Steve stops fretting. Stops beating himself up for his inability to take care of himself. Thor will look after him when the time comes, and with that thought tucked neatly in his head, Steve swallows Thor’s cock.

Thor mutters the name of some god Steve’s never heard of, his thighs falling apart wider as both his hands cradle the back of Steve’s head. Those same hands have wielded the axe that could have saved so many lives. Steve can feel the tremor in those hands, can taste the guilt rolling off them in waves. Thor blames himself for the destruction of half of mankind. Steve wants to show Thor that it’s no one’s fault.

The thought strikes him through the heart and he chokes on Thor’s cock. It’s no one’s fault. Not Thor’s, not the Avengers’, not the Wakadans’. Not his. He struggles to wrap his head around it, his guilty conscience biting and clawing as it tries to kick the seedling of self-forgiveness from his mind. But each stroke of Thor’s cock down his throat brings more clarity and fills the emptiness in his head with a warmth that shocks him.

It’s not his fault that Sam’s gone. Wanda, Vision, T’Challa, and so many others.

It’s not his fault that Bucky’s slipped through his fingers again.

It’s not his fault.

Steve chokes again, and this time, Thor pulls him off the floor, and they lay down on Steve’s bed together. Trembling fingers brush away the tears on Steve’s cheeks, and Thor leans in to kiss each of his eyelids with moist lips.

“It’s not your fault,” Steve croaks and tries to smile through his tears. “Not yours. Not mine. No one’s.”

“It is not your fault, but it is mine,” Thor says with a wry grin and continues to stroke Steve’s hair like he’s petting a spooked animal. “I promised Loki I’d stop Thanos. But I failed, and my failure cost billions of lives—”

Steve presses an index finger to Thor’s lips and a shock of static zaps his fingertip. “No. And I imagine I don’t agree with Loki on many things, but he would agree with me on this.”

“Loki? Agreeable?” Thor’s expression softens, and his one good eye gleams with unshed tears. “I would pay all the gold in all the realms to witness that.”

Steve sniffs and smiles. “He seemed like a rather disagreeable fellow.”

“That was part of his charm.” Thor sighs and rolls on top of Steve, straddling Steve’s hips with solid thighs. “Let me take care of you, Steve Rogers.”

Steve needs no further urging as Thor strips off his leather tunic. His pants hang low on his hips, and his cock twitches back to life on Steve’s stomach. Steve sits up as Thor yanks his t-shirt over his head. Thor works his way down Steve’s hips, thighs, calves and takes Steve’s pants and underwear with him.

He picks up Steve’s left foot, kisses the arch as he gazes into Steve’s eyes, then his lips travel back up Steve’s ankle, calf, and latch onto the back of Steve’s knee. The touch is gentle, but the sensation is so intense it leaves Steve breathless. Thor’s beard scrapes along the thin skin of Steve’s inner thigh, and the coarse hair tickles his balls when Thor plants feather-light kisses around the shaft of Steve’s straining erection.

The room retreats, dragging time with it. A bubble of comfort balloons around them, and the world fades away into the background. Thor shifts lower, and nothing exists inside this bubble except Steve’s soft, guttural cries as Thor’s tongue licks into him, tasting him and filling him with pooling need. Steve wants to be good for Thor, wants so desperately to show Thor that if he believes he’s failed, then he’s not alone in his failure.

Thor opens him up with tongue and fingers and so much slick. Steve thought he wanted it to hurt, thought physical pain would chase away the ache in his chest, but Thor seems to know better. Slow, tender, loving fingers coax Steve pliant, and he relaxes into the touch as if he’s sinking into the depths of the ocean.

He loses himself in Thor’s kisses, loses himself in the stretch of his body when Thor finally, finally slides into him. The emptiness, as welcome as it is, is replaced by a burning desire, and Steve’s filled to the brim by Thor’s passion. He wants to stay this full on Thor’s cock forever, wants to bask in this trapped freedom until the earth stops spinning.

Thor bites his shoulder, his hips snapping against Steve’s ass with each rolling thrust, and a surge of power zaps through Steve. The lightning skids along Steve’s skin, each arc a pinprick of pleasant, tingling pain. A fist wraps around his cock and a surging charge sends a jolt of pleasure straight to his balls.

Steve whimpers, then chokes on a shocked cry when more electricity flows through him. Pricks of numbing pain on his skin, but it’s a pleasant buzz that’s shorting his brain even as Thor’s cock rubs against that sweet spot inside him. Steve's cock twitches, and his hips stutter as he thrusts into Thor’s hand with desperation.

He craves his release, _needs_ it like his lungs need air, and Thor gives it to him. His orgasm punches through him in a flash of blinding light. Steve shouts, his voice broken but sated as he cries his pleasures for the world to hear. He doesn’t care. Doesn’t care who knows that yes, Steve Rogers is still human. Is only human.

Thor grips his hips tight enough to bruise, and Steve relishes in this moment when Thor reminds his serum-jacked body of its mortality. Thor empties into him with a groan, his body taut, his hips stilling, then they collapse into the mess of Steve’s rumpled sheets. The room is silent save for their ragged breathing, and it’s another few erratic heartbeats before Thor rolls off him.

They stare at each other through their post-orgasmic haze. Thor threads his fingers through Steve’s, brings Steve’s hand to his lips, and kisses each knuckle with a soft smile.

When Thor lets go, his hand is steady.


End file.
